Toni’s house was haunted.
The smell of acrid smoke assaulted her as soon as she entered the kitchen. A moment of panic, quickly replaced by anger. The ghost had struck again.
“Karl!” she called out. “Why did you run the coffee maker?”
A translucent figure drifted in from the living room. “I turn on the coffee maker every morning,” he said with a dismissive shrug.
“Yes, but did you notice there was no coffee or water in it?”
A roll of the eyes. “I’ve lived in this house for thirty years. You really expect me to change my routine after all that time? It’s not my fault you don’t know how to make coffee properly.”
“But you don’t live here anymore,” Toni retorted, gesturing to his hovering form. “And you can’t even drink the coffee.”
“And you can’t prepare it responsibly, but you don’t hear me complaining.”
Toni rubbed her temples. The headache she had woken up with had intensified dramatically. “I’m leaving,” she announced. “Apparently I need to stop by Starbucks on my way to work.”
“While you’re there,” the ghost grunted, “You should look into picking up a new coffee maker. This one doesn’t work anymore.”
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Story by Gregory M. Fox